


Worries

by beargirl1393



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft worries that his brother has found someone else. Sherlock sets him straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worries

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [221B Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/282738) by [chasingriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver). 



> This was inspired by another author's fic. I read chasingriver's '221B Drabbles' and had an idea after reading chapter 8 of the fic. I suggest you read it, as it is good and it explains Mycroft's headspace in this better.

Sherlock entered the flat just as Mycroft left the shower. He stopped dead by the door, looking between his towel-clad brother to the chair with his things on it. He had a feeling he was missing something; not a feeling Sherlock Holmes was used to.

“I see you’ve come for your things,” Mycroft said, his voice tight. He knew Sherlock would know he’d been crying and he wanted his brother to go so he could mourn their relationship in peace. _Damn that ex-Army doctor to Hell and back._

“My things? Mycroft, what are you on about?” Sherlock asked, taking a step further into the room.

“Your things, the possessions and clothing you left here,” Mycroft said, gesturing to their chair. “I assumed when you decided to terminate our arrangement…” He didn’t get any further, as Sherlock had practically flown at him, pressing their lips together.

“You are an idiot Mycroft,” Sherlock said when he pulled back. “I. Do. Not. Love. John. He’s interesting, yes, but that is all. I value him as a friend and a partner for my cases, nothing more.”

Mycroft opened his mouth to reply (he was there dammit, when Sherlock was staring at the doctor after he shot the cabbie and he knew he brother well enough to know those looks went beyond _friendship_ ) but before he could say anything Sherlock pressed their lips together again.

“My,” Sherlock said, shaking his head, “I wanted you since I was fifteen. It took you four years to accept that, and another six months to agree to try this. Do you think I would throw that all away? Do you think that John is more important to me than you are?”

Both brothers cringed at the amount of sentiment, but it needed to be said. Mycroft was too uncertain of his place in his brother’s life, fearing that he was replaceable. Sherlock had experimented plenty while he waited on Mycroft, and neither entered the arrangement a blushing virgin, but Mycroft felt he had more to lose. He hadn’t wanted anyone the way he wanted Sherlock. There was, literally, no one else who could understand him as well as his little brother did.

What he seemed to struggle to understand is that Sherlock feels the same.

“Don’t doubt me brother,” Sherlock said, toying idly with a piece of Mycroft’s hair, still wet from the shower. “I want you and I need you, only you. Do you still want me to leave?”

Mycroft had known he was doomed from the moment Sherlock had kissed him, and his brother likely knew that too, but he answered anyway. “No. I do not want you to leave.”

“Good, as I wasn’t planning on it,” Sherlock said, smirking as he stepped back, uncaring that his suit had gotten wet from where he was pressed up against Mycroft. “I did have other plans for this evening, but they are flexible.”

Mycroft smirked, knowing just how flexible his little brother could be.

Later that night, he lay awake after his brother had fallen asleep, staring at the dark head resting on his chest, grateful beyond mentioning that he hadn’t lost him. He would keep an eye on the good doctor though. An ounce of prevention was worth a pound of the cure after all, and he wasn’t prepared to lose Sherlock to anyone.


End file.
